What hurts the most
by everfire
Summary: No spoilers. Something has happened in New York that Brian can't escape. Only Jennifer is brave enough to face it. BrianXJustin Warnings: for angst and language.
1. New York

What hurts the most...

A/N: Ok, so I should really finish other stuff... but this plot came into my head. There should only be about one more chapter so don't expect an epic, but I wanted to try out QAF fanfiction. Hope you like it. Please Read and review!

The cold wind bit into the very core of the city. It froze the metallic taste right out of the dirty air, and blew snow over the minds and bodies of the inhabitants of pittsburg. Brain stood poised on a street corner, torn between recklessly rushing out into the rode and waiting the undefined amount of time.

"I'm freezing my ass off," He commented to no one in particular. He shifted his eyes over the traffic, and licked his lips thoughtfully. The light flickered to show a deformed crossing sign that's lights had gone out on the leg. An annoying melody played over a thin cell phone Brian had tucked away in his pocket. He stepped off the curb and flipped it open, "What?" He gruffed into the speaker.

"Where are you?" comes Michael's voice.

"I'm coming up on the liberty diner now" Brian breathes, tisking as he sees further traffic directly forming at the next light.

"What are you doing there?" Michael asks, sounding cross.

"Well," Brian begins, his air of superiority slightly damaged by the cold, "If I can ever get there I was hoping to consume something. Exactly when did liberty Ave. become the hot spot?"

"It's always been a hot spot Brian," Michael chastises

Brian scoffed noisily, "For us maybe, but who the hell even are these people?"

"Brian! Aren't you going to miss your plane?"

Brian stopped mid-street. "Plane?"

"Yeah," The voice on the line cracked, "Oh god, don't tell me you forgot?"

"Forgot? forgot what?"

Car's horns sounded loudly over the conversation between friends, trying to force Brian into moving.

"Oh, god...no..." Brian softly responds.

Somewhere in New York in a bar a man walks up to a boy and smiles.

"What do you wear to something like this?" Emmet wonders over the three-way phone call.

"Can't you think of anything else to worry about?" Michael snipes.

Ted sighs, "You guys know this is serious."

"I'm not the one worried about his fashion sense!"

"I didn't mean it like that. I...I just don't think I own anything appropriate." Emmet confesses gently.

Ted smiled, "I'm sure you'll look gorgeous."

"So how is Brian?" Emmet tries. The question is never answered.

Somewhere a boy smiles back.

Lights flash blue and red over Brian's face. He moves his hips gently, and sways. His eyes drift shut as he throws his head back. Techno music blares so loudly that the wooden floor bounces. The nightclub is the same as the ones in pittsburg. Nothing changes, the distance between real events and the "Thumpa thumpa" is still as far.

"Hey, sexy." A stranger whispers at Brian, but he ignores them moving back and forth as if possessed.

This nightclub was exactly like the ones at home, except that it wasn't. The floor was not the familiar cement, and here his name didn't carry the same weight. Here He was just another guy. He felt a little sick, but he wondered whether he was actually feeling an emotion or if he was just having a bad trip from whatever that guy in the bathroom had given him.

All things considered, he should have known better. Brian did know better, but he just didn't care.

"Where you from? I've never see you around here before."

Brian smiled at the idiots continued attempts, "I'm new." He answers coolly.

"Wanna dance?"

Brian raises an eyebrow, "I am dancing."

"I meant with me"

Brian moved slightly away, " What do you want me to do? Hold your hand? Fuck off."

Somewhere a boy leaves the dance floor with someone else's teasing hands.

Brian had no idea where he was. To be fair he also didn't know who he was with or what he had done with them. He was pretty sure he had taken a good number of drugs, but he didn't remember much beyond dancing. He was in a firm bed and the air around him smelled like antiseptic. He shook his head to try to get rid of the smell, and immediately felt nausea. He doubled over and threw up on immaculate floor.

"Oh, fuck! Man what's wrong with you?"

"I don't know," Brian mumbled miserably from his upright fetal position, "Maybe you could illuminate it for me."

The man who was standing at the equally immaculate doorway paused unsure of what to say.

Brian looked up, his hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his eyes felt positively grainy. "Fuck." He muttered when he made contact with the homely man, presumably the owner of the house that Brain was in currently. "I must have been really fucked up. Was I any good?"

The man scoffed, "You don't remember?"

Brain strained his mind, "No, I still remember. I needed to get on the plane so I could be here. I wouldn't want me here, but apparently..." Brian was making muffled conversation with himself as he pulled his designer clothing from the floor, onto his body.

"What are you talking about?"

Somewhere in the darkness someone feels ecstasy like nothing he's felt before.

"If you'll just walk this way." The woman in the tweed jacket gestured to Jennifer up the stairs of an old building. "As you can see, it is rather charming."

"It seems like a, excuse my language, shit hole to me."

"This is actually pretty good housing for what he could have afforded."

"Somehow I'm not really comforted." The mother said eyes the peeling wallpaper as she ascended higher in the building.

"The rooms are generally more pleasant."

Jennifer sighed, "well that's good at the very least."

"Look if you don't want to do this today..." The woman paused on the landing, looking at her client for confirmation.

"I'm already here," She shrugged "I might as well see it."

"Alright." She pulled out a row of keys, "The landlord gave me the janitors extra keys for this room. The original ones are lost."

"Among other things." Jennifer said cynically, as they entered a long hallway. The wall paper here didn't seem to be of any higher quality than that of the peeling paper along the brass stairs, but at least in this hallway it was still fully connected to the wall. It had managed to become even louder than the earlier paper however, which was a feat Jen hadn't believed possible until she was given concrete proof otherwise. At about the third door her companion stopped and reevaluated how determined Jennifer was again. After a few moments of convincing, the woman gently pushed the key in the lock and pushed the door open.


	2. Somwhere

**A/N: So this story is basically just angst. woot! Warning: serious sadness coming your way! **

**I thought up this story while listening to What Hurts the most, I prefer the cascada version for this fic because it fits the feeling of QAF more. You should check it out.**

**Thank you all who reviewed and please read and review this chapter as well!**

* * *

Somewhere a boy feels a hand tease up his neck.

Debbie walked into the New York apartment and wrinkled her nose. She pulled tissues out of her purse.

"What on earth was sunshine doing here?" She spoke softly and her voice cracked. She covered her mouth with a tissue. Her eyes had dark circles below them, but she seemed fully awake. The kind of tired she exuded wasn't the exhaustion of working your body, but rather a sadness so complete your bones ache with it.

"Living, so far as we can tell." came a woman's voice from within the apartment.

Debbie whirled to look in the direction the voice was, "Oh! Jennifer!"

If Debbie had looked tired, Jennifer looked dead. Her whole face was sunken in and her eyes were bloodshot. She blinked slowly trying to blink the sandy grain from her eyes, but her eyelids felt like sandpaper as well. "Hello, Debbie."

"Oh," Debbie blinked back tears and rushed to hug her. Her fingers tangled gently into the other woman's hair and she held her.

The door creaked open and Vick slowly let himself in, "I parked the car. It's quite a walk though. It's a big city out there." he shook his head solemnly.

Debbie refused to let Jen go even when she gently moved in an attempt to free herself. Eventually she gave a sigh and released her body into Debbie. Despite Debbie's tired bones she held Jen tight and upright when her legs went out. It hadn't seemed possible only moments before, but Jennifer felt pressure building behind her eyes and soon she was outright sobbing on the other mother's shoulder. They held each other for a long while and cried.

Debbie pulled free and wiped her nose, "Look at us," She licked her dry lips and caught her breath again, "blubbering like a couple of old queens."

In the background Vick whispered his voice soft and filled with awe, "And we wouldn't want that." The joke was left to float in the air like dust motes, dancing just outside of reach.

"So," Debbie began.

Jennifer cut her off, "I filled out the paperwork last night," She licked her lips, "To the best of my knowledge of course." she gulped, "He..he didn't write much, so, I'm just not sure..."

"Baby, I'm sure he would have," Debbie consoled.

Jennifer shook her head as if trying to release something that was trapped in her mind. "Once I came here, yesterday, I just couldn't leave. So I stayed here, in his bed. I..."

Debbie looked around the room, there was no form of furniture, just white walls and short curled carpet in tan tones, speckled to hide dirt and wear. There was only two doors, one leading out into the hallway and a wood door that Jen had walked through that lead presumably to his bedroom. There were a few windows all along one wall, directly across from the hall door, but they were barred and faced another building. Hanging from the ceiling a little off center, was a bare lightbulb and a string.

"They were serious when they say "Starving artist, huh?" Debbie quirked, but the tone was still slightly off. "where did he even keep his food?"

Jennifer nodded toward the bedroom door, "He has a mini fridge and a microwave in there."

"This is ridiculous ." Vick commented peering out the dirty windows.

Jen touched her hand to her mouth, "He never mentioned any of this...we..we" her voice cracked and she couldn't go on. She struggled to fall to the ground in a seemly heap. Debbie rushed to her side but Jennifer waved her away. "I'm..fine...just tired."

Debbie nodded knowingly.

"Do..do you remember when he left for here?"

Debbie forced herself to say, "yes."

"He had so much...hope. I think it was in his eyes. It was like when he was a child, perfectly innocent. The hardest thing I've ever done was hug him and wave. Just watching him walk away and board that plane. His whole future...was..." She coughed for a moment before resuming, "stretched out before him. We were so happy..." She looked like she wanted to sob, and her whole body lurched, but there just wasn't any more tears to spare.

The door creaked open, and the woman in the tweed jacket from the day before peeked her head in.

"Hello," She squeaked obviously started by Debbie and Vick's presence.

"Oh, hello," Debbie reached out her hand to the woman, "I'm Debbie, and this is my brother Vick."

She gave a curt nod and seemed to accept this knowledge, "I'm Marie, the land lady of this building. I only knew Justine for so long, but" She sent a fleeting glance to Jen, "He seemed like a wonderful boy."

Jen flinched on the word seemed. "Please don't...don't say it like that...it makes it seem like..." she trailed off when her heart wouldn't allow her to finish.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to offend." She looked like she wanted to continue, but part of her spirit wouldn't let her. It just wasn't fair to say that he was alright. After a moment of awkward silence, Marie shook herself, "There's someone here asking where you are. I wasn't sure if you wanted me to send him up or not."

"Who is it?" Jennifer asked straitening her back, and raising her eyes. She was well bred and sometimes her body would remember it and command would easily return to her.

"He introduced himself as Michael." She replied promptly, "Do you know him?"

"Michael?" Debbie perked up, "Yes! Yes, that's my son!"

The landlady nodded, "I'll send him right up then."

After she left the doorway, Jen slumped again.

Somewhere a boy walks away down an alley, satisfied and smiling like a Cheshire cat.

Brian's toes were over the edge, just by a few inches. He was standing miles above the rest of the world. He closed his eyes and breathed the stinking city air. Why had he come here? Where was he?

He looked to the looming skyscrapers on either side, there was where he had always wanted to go. He could have been the best advertising executive in all of this fucking city. Brian had never went there though, he had never traveled outside of his home.

So why are you here?

He turned to see the one who left. "Justin?" He asked the boy.

Justin said something, but Brian just couldn't hear in all the wind that was whipping past his ears. Then Justin was reaching out to him. Brain lifted his hands to try to grab the boy. The boy's soft hands touch his. Justin pushes Brian, and then Brian is falling off the building.

Hey, Brian, don't ever change.

Brian wakes up. His eyes come into focus enough to see a yellowed ceiling, and all at once Brian knew where he is at. He's in some dingy hotel in Chelsea. He was just a few miles from where they said it happened.

Somewhere...a boy...

"Michael!" Debbie rushes up to her son and envelops him in a crushing embrace, "You made it."

"Oh,"Jennifer's eyes tinted with emotion, "You really didn't have to drop everything to be here."

"Nonsense!" Debbie interjected just as her son dared open his mouth.

"Really."Michael uttered when she looked unsure, "It was no big deal. We all care about Justin."

Debbie patted her son proudly and pinched his cheeks. Speaking despite her continued pinching Michael added, "I brought Emmet with me, but he's still sleeping at our hotel. Ted will be coming later tonight."

Jennifer looked mildly horrified, "All of you didn't need to do this...it's," Her voice cracked painfully, "It's not as though you can do anything anyway."

Somewhere...

The slap of the manila folder on his desk shook officer Henderson from his nap. "Long night?" Asks the desk clerk.

"You could say that." the gruff older man stretched the sleep from his tired muscles. "What this?" he inquires before being taken over by a yawn.

"That missing persons report that was filed a few days ago."

Henderson knitted his eyebrows together, "and what's it doing here? On my desk?"

The clerk smiled and shrugged, "you got the short straw?"

"What are you talking about young man? This should have already been put into circulation."

The clerk nodded, "It was." He shook his head, "But it's been bumped from desk to desk. No one wants it."

Henderson chewed his inner cheek and opened the folder while the clerk skittered away.

"Justin Taylor, huh, mid twenties, artist, graduated a fine arts institute." The man gave a crooked smile, "Prolly came here hoping to catch his break, poor kid."

One of the other officers, Mandy something if he remembered right, teased, "Talking to yourself again, Henderson."

"Shut up" He gruffed half heartedly, "It helps me think. Maybe if you tried it you'd be a better cop." His voice rose into a teasing tone for the last sentence.

She shook her head, "Whatever you say sir."

He lifted the most recent picture that was in the folder and looked down into pool water blue eyes. "So, Kid, why does no one want to find you?" He trailed his scarred fingers over the bio. He grumbled when nothing immediately popped out at him. "Come on, kid help me out here."He flipped the page to the reports supplied by his family.

'I have to admit, he became distant, after he...he came out to everyone. Well, actually, I told him. I found...nevermind. He just wasn't around as much. Then when he moved to New York, I felt like I had really lost him. At first he still wrote, just not very often. Then... the letters took longer and longer to come...and...and then they stopped.'

Each of the cops who had held this same folder had contributed a little before sending it on. Many of the files were in different handwriting, and some were typed. They had put up flyers in the neighborhood, if you could call it that, that Justin had lived in, and in Chelsea where a anonymous informant placed him last. The cop shook his head. There were a milliion things the kid could have been doing there in the middle of the night; hustling, getting drugs, heck selling drugs. The only problem: he was last seen in the middle of the day. Something just wasn't adding up. They hadn't gotten a single report placing him anywhere even in New York except that one call. There wasn't even proof that the little Picasso hadn't just taken his show on the road without telling anyone.

"No wonder no one wants this case. He's a lost cause." He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger, "Soon we'll be checking bodies to see if their dental records match."

'He was always a strong willed young man, he really fought to stay...alive...I'm sorry I just can't..I can't talk anymore. Can I have some water?' those last words his mother had said swam in front of Henderson. He felt vaguely lonely and, not for the first time, hated being a cop.

He picked up the phone and dialed a number quickly. The phone started to ring. He heard a distant click then a soft female voice answered, "Hello?"

"Hey, Mom. How are you?"

a boy...

The red light of the alarm clock that Jennifer had brought with her proclaimed it to be 1:30, but she still couldn't sleep. His bed that smelt so much like her son. She stood up, and flung on a robe before she ventured out to the living room.

"Oh, hi honey!" Debbie called from her seat on the floor. She was sitting under a loudly patterned blanket with Vick, Michael, Emmet, and Ted. "did we wake you?"

"No," Jen replied quickly, "I.." She opened her mouth then sighed and closed it, "I just can't sleep."

"That's understandable, considering..." Emmet commented.

Michael glared at Emmet, "Em!"

"No, It's ok Michael. It's true after all."Jen strained to smile.

They all tried to smile back.

"Would you like anything hun?"

"Theres some hot chocolate."

"Yes, I think I'd like that." She readied herself to sit then changed her mind, "Can I borrow someone's cell phone?"

Ted stood to easier release his from his jeans, "Here use mine, free nights and weekends."

Jennifer nodded gratefully and typed a number on the numeric pad. She pressed send and waited anxiously. A sleepy voice came thickly over the patchy phone line, "Hello?"

"Hi, honey."

"Mom?" suddenly the voice was very awake, "Is Justin ok? Did they find him?"

"No." Tears welled in her already dry eyes, "They haven't found him yet. I'm sorry I disturbed your sleep."

"No, Mom." Maggie's voice was thick with sadness as well, "I wasn't sleeping either. I miss you ."

"I miss you, too."

and a man...are lost.

Brian dreamed about him. That was the only time Brian ever saw him, but he stayed in Chelsea hoping he would find him. It wasn't right. Justin wasn't dead., he was just gone. No matter where or how long he looked he couldn't find him.

A love...a one time...again fuck...is lost...

"Excuse me, Ms. Kinney?" said a voice over an old telephone.

"What?" Asked the old woman as she took a second swig of something alcoholic and strong.

The man on the phone tried again, "Are you Mrs. Kinney?"

"Yeah, I'm that bastard's widow. What do you want?"

"I'm Officer Henderson. I calling about your son, Brian Kinney." The voice continued after her confirmation.

She scoffed into the phone spitting on the receiver, "Yeah, what'd he do?"

"I'm sorry, madam, but your son is dead."

The glass of dirty brown liquid fell from her hands.

Debbie sat on the old bed that had once been owned by Michael. The bed that her son had slept in before he walked out of her life to New York. She was dressed in a simple black dress, and had a crumpled Kleenex in her hands. She touched the soft sheets gently, stroking the wrinkles out of the sheets.

The door creaked open and Lindsay let herself in. "If we want to be on time, we'll have to leave soon." She whispered gently, not able to bring herself to say funeral. Jennifer nodded. "We've hung some of the pictures," she licked her lips as she tried to think of how to phrase her sentence, "the ones Justin drew, at the gallery. We've gotten a lot of questions about the artist."

Jennifer nodded, then stood.

A son, was lost

Somewhere there might be a boy...

Dedicated to all the families who have lost a loved one and never got the chance to hug or bury them. Dedicated to all the people who have to wonder if one day they will show up again. Because what hurts the most...is not knowing, but still hoping.

**THE END.** **Maybe...  
**

**A/N: ok, just to clear a few things up, this story is hot off the press, meaning I haven't checked it yet for errors. if you see something please tell me, but I would prefer it in a pm.**

**Also, the plot in chronological order: Justin goes to New York to get a break in art, Justin goes missing, Brian and Jen go to NY, Jen files the missing persons report, Brian...mourns, Jen finds her son's NY home, Debbie and Vick arrive, Michael and Emmet arrive, Jen can't sleep so she calls home, the same cop who got the report about Justin calls brian's mom to tell her her son was murdered in a back alley in chelsea, where he was searching for Justin. I skipped a few things, but basically that's the gist.  
**


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